The Removed(45)

“I love hearing about your childhood,” I told him. I kept it to myself, but I was absolutely amazed by his memory.

“I feel better than I have in a long time.”

“What’s happened?” I asked.

“This boy Wyatt, he reminds me of Ray-Ray,” he said, looking away from me, as if he was thinking aloud. “Maybe our prayers are being answered.”

“Our ancestors watch over us,” I said.

“Yes, they do,” he said. “I’ve been telling Wyatt some of the old stories about our family.”

“I remember some of those.”

“You and Edgar used to love for me to tell the story of Tsala when you were young. About how soldiers shot him dead because he refused to leave the land. It’s an important one.” For a moment he looked down at his hands and said nothing. “I haven’t seen Edgar since the intervention.”

“I think he’ll come home,” I told him. “I think he’ll look for work here. Last time I talked to him, Desiree had broken up with him and he didn’t have any sort of plan. I kept bugging him about it, but he didn’t tell me anything about what he wanted to do. He didn’t know. He should just come home and let us help him.”

“He knows we want him to come home.”

“I’ve told him that over and over.”

He looked at me with uncertainty. “Desiree was good for him. She called a few days ago, worried about him.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She wouldn’t say anything except they split up and she wanted to let us know. I told your mother maybe we should drive out to Albuquerque again.”

I looked at him and saw that he was serious. “For another intervention?”

“Whatever we need to do,” he said. “Bring him back to live with us so he can save money. Anything to help get him out of this situation.”

When we returned to the house, we sat on our back deck for a while. I was feeling overwhelmed to see Papa this way again—so supportive and protective of his kids during a crisis, exactly as he’d been after Ray-Ray died. Soon my mother came outside and suggested we all go down to the lake.

“You’ll have to meet Wyatt when he gets home,” she told me. “He is so charming and smart. I have to tell you, he reminds us of Ray-Ray.”

“That’s what Papa said. The guy I went out with the other day has a son named Luka who resembles Ray-Ray in a way. The way he looks, his facial expressions. It’s so strange.”

“Wyatt’s more than just a resemblance,” Papa said, and I saw my mom tap Papa on the arm for some reason. They were holding back something from me. Sometimes they acted secretive like this, and I decided not to press it. Honestly, I didn’t care much about the foster kid—I was more concerned with my own problems, with Vin and with Edgar not contacting us.

We saw a hawk swoop down at the edge of the road, ahead. Papa pointed. It perched and turned to us before flying into the woods. “I see that hawk from time to time,” Papa said. “I’ve always wondered if it’s Ray-Ray watching us. Or maybe an ancestor.”

“I like that it could be Ray-Ray’s spirit,” I told him. “He would play tricks on us, for sure. Right? I can totally see that.”

As we walked, we heard a girl’s voice from down the road, and a moment later she came into view. She was running toward us, calling out, “Wolfie! Wolfie!” When she reached us a minute later, she was out of breath. “Have you seen my dog?” she asked, breathing hard. “His name is Wolfie.”

“What kind of dog is he?” I asked.

“He’s a shepherd mix,” she said, still trying to catch her breath. I guessed she was eight or nine years old. “He ran away. He has light-brown fur and a collar with his name on it.”

My mom took her by the hand and promised we would help her search. We all hurried down the path toward the water, calling Wolfie’s name and whistling. “Where is he?” the girl kept asking us.

After a few minutes, my mom knelt down to the girl. “What’s your name? Is your mom or dad around? We should find them, too.”

“My name is Sarah,” the girl said. “I live with my daddy in that house over there.” She pointed to a gray house across the lake. “He’s looking for Wolfie, too.”

My mother asked, “Why are you by yourself? What happened?”

“I ran off to try to find Wolfie,” she said. “My daddy’s looking on the other side.”

Papa and I knelt down to her, too. “But he’s probably looking for you,” I told her. “We should go find him.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Papa told her. “Everything will be fine.”

The girl was near hysterics by now, and my mom held her for a minute. Papa put two pinkies in his mouth and tried to whistle. “I used to whistle this way,” he said, disappointed, then looked down to see Sarah’s face wet with tears. I could see his compassion for the girl. He understood that she was so afraid of her dog never returning she could barely breathe. It was a feeling we all understood. In such a moment, there is never enough comfort to soothe that fear.

My mother announced that she would take Sarah to find her dad, and we promised to keep looking for Wolfie. Papa and I walked back toward the house, calling Wolfie’s name. The woods could be thick in parts, and also dark. When we were almost to the house, my phone rang. I saw that it was Vin, but I didn’t answer it.